Adventure stories; Dime novels; Impostors and imposture -- Fiction; Love stories
CHAPTER XXV.
"I INTEND TO WATCH YOU DIE, INCH BY INCH, DAY BY DAY!"
Before going on further with the thrilling event which we narrated in
our last chapter it will be necessary to devote a few explanatory lines
to the still more thrilling scene which led up to it, returning to the
real Lester Armstrong, whom we left in the isolated cabin in the custody
of Halloran.
Lester's intense anxiety when Kendale forcibly took the keys from him
and disappeared can better be imagined than described.
In vain he pleaded with Halloran to release him, offering every kind of
inducement, but the man was inexorable.
Your Cousin Kendale will pay me twice as much for detaining you here,"
he answered with a boisterous laugh, adding:
"Besides, I have a grudge against you of many years' standing, Lester
Armstrong, which this affair is wiping out pretty effectively."
"I was not aware that I had ever seen you before," replied Lester.
"Permit me to refresh your memory," exclaimed the other grimly. "When
you were a boy of about fourteen years you attended the public school on
Canal Street."
"Yes," said Lester, still mystified.
"At that time," went on Halloran, "the school was unusually crowded,
owing to the enforcement of the law that the children of the
neighborhood must attend school, thus bringing in all the urchins of
the poor thereabouts; you surely remember that?"
"It seems to me I have a faint recollection of some such circumstance,"
replied Lester, eying the man who stood over him, his dark, scowling
face growing more foreboding with each word he uttered.
"If you carry your mind back you will also remember that there was a
ragged boy sitting to the right of you, who seemed to have a weakness
for purloining your pencils and other like articles."
Lester did not answer; his mind was traveling back to the time this man
recalled.
"You will also recollect the boy who sat in front of you, who was the
envy of all the boys in the school by being the possessor of a fine, new
five-bladed jackknife, with which he used to whittle kites and whistles
during recess. Ah! I see you do remember," said Halloran grimly, "and
you also remember the day the ragged boy, sitting at the right of you,
believing no one was looking, reached over and quietly, deftly, inserted
his hand in the other's pocket and abstracted the coveted jackknife.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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